


and she fights for her life on the train

by cherryblossombomb



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Genderswap, mentions of mama stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblossombomb/pseuds/cherryblossombomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the fourth time he'd helped her buzz her hair, but he'd yet to ask why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and she fights for her life on the train

It was the fourth time he'd helped her buzz her hair, but he'd yet to ask why.

When he first saw her, ambling through the woods with a frazzled expression and a heartbeat as fast as a baby rabbit's, he wasn't sure if she was a boy or a girl. She'd twisted around, almost stumbling again, before punching Scott's arm and stuffing her hands in the pockets of what had to have been a guy's hoodie, and her chest was pretty damn flat beneath the Captain America t-shirt that was at least two sizes too big.

He was about as good with girls as he was with guys. Derek wasn't bred to be gentle. His parents taught him to be more human than wolf, despite being born one, but he treated almost everyone with equal amounts of ferocity and force. Just because Erica was female, she wasn't exempt from his occasional bouts of furious violence. And just because Stiles was a girl, she wouldn't be an exception to Derek's constant glowering and death threats. Gender made no difference to him; everyone was equally annoying.

... Perhaps equally was a bit of a stretch, because Stiles was the most frustrating and confusion person he'd ever met. She was as weak and vulnerable as most humans, more so due to her affiliation with werewolves and knack for talking herself into trouble more usual than talking herself out of it.

Scott pissed Derek off because he talked back and didn't accept his word as law and, while Stiles was the same in that respect, she also called him names and questioned his authority and - and existed.

But he had eventually grown accustomed to her occasional adrenaline high and inability to keep still and how she acted like a guy and dressed like one too, but he'd yet to get used to her strange bouts of wisdom that rose at the strangest time, like a flower blossoming in winter, and he still didn't know why she buzzed her hair. His sister used to spend hours on her hair in her free time, plaiting it and styling it and dying it so often it was amazing it didn't fall out.

The only time he'd seen Stiles with more hair was during her prom, when she'd grown it out a little. Not long enough to tie up, not even by her shoulders, but instead seeming to float at the top of her neck in little bouncy curls. She'd even had a ribbon and worn a dress, although she'd worn shorts underneath because apparently tights were uncomfortable and she felt naked wearing anything but pants.

He hadn't seen her that night, but now knew what had happened; how she'd gone with Peter in order to protect Lydia, how her father thought she'd abandoned the girl, how Peter had offered her the bite and Stiles had rejected it.

She'd never told him much more than that. And she'd only told him when he saw her next, staring blankly at a Calculus book and bouncing her knee up and down, the dress she'd worn to prom stuffed into a plastic bag in the bin, covered in blood and dirt and sweat.

But he'd seen a picture of her in it, one with her arm thrown around Scott as she grinned at the camera, all teeth and no grace, and another that she'd obviously been unaware of, where she was smiling softer than he'd ever seen, still fiddling with her fingers because she couldn't not fidget, and he almost thought she looked beautiful.

Almost.

And now here she was, sitting cross-legged in his lap and jerkily pressing buttons on her DS as he tried to buzz her hair without hurting her. It was hard when she wouldn't sit still. But she'd been worse without the DS to distract her.

"Stiles," he said gruffly as more tiny strands of hair fell into the towel on his lap.

She hummed, obviously paying more attention to her game than to Derek, which made him huff out a sigh against her ear. She squirmed, shaking her head, and turned to scowl at him.

He smirked.

"What?" she said irritably, still frowning at him as she saved her game without looking down.

"Why do you cut all your hair off?"

He'd thought it was innocent enough, thought it'd be a plain and simple answer about how it got in her way, how she wasn't feminine enough to bother with hairstyles, how she just liked it better this way.

But Stiles was never simple and never spoke plainly. She was full of riddles and somewhat of an enigma in all respects, even the things that should be simple.

"I've been doing it since I was seven," she said after a long moment, not looking at him now, but staring into the blank screen of her DS, shoulders hunched although she probably didn't even realise it. "Since, um..." She gave a one-shouldered shrug, like it was nothing, and then shook her head. Her heartbeat was always slightly faster than normal, which always made him slightly concerned and very exasperated and maybe even a little bit fond, but now it was escalating like she was being threatened.

"Stiles," he muttered, tentatively reaching up and touching her shoulders, pulling her back against him as gently as he could so that she could pull away if she wanted to. He wished he could say what he was thinking, but words always caught in his throat as soon as the doubts began to surface. "I don't need to know," he eventually said, instead of telling her she didn't have to say anything she didn't want to, because that sounded too caring, too invested.

Stiles's shoulders jerked up slightly for a second like she was angry or hurt, but then she huffed a strange, breathless little laugh that sounded more like a sigh. "I've been doing it since my mom was diagnosed with, uh, cancer," she said bluntly, obviously trying to sound calm, but her shoulders were trembling under his hands and her voice cracked just the slightest bit. "I guess it's dumb to still do it," she continued, and Derek knew now that this was when she started rambling to hide the real matter, when she made self-deprecating jokes to change the subject. "It's not like I can even give any hair away since I buzz it before it even grows out. Not that anyone would want it, probably, not when pretty much every girl I know has long hair that you thought only existed in shampoo commercials."

Derek stared at the back of her head for a moment before extracting himself from around her and sinking onto his knees in front of her. She jumped, surprised, and nearly fell back against the bed, but he grasped her wrists and pulled her back. She blinked furiously to hide the obvious shining in her eyes and gave him a strange look, like she wasn't sure if to smile or not. He rubbed his thumbs in circles on her wrists. Softly, more gentle than he thought he could be, because it tickled her if he applied pressure.

"Well hey there, sourwolf," she tried, tilting her head a little. "Sick of sneaking up on me behind, thought you'd go for the Spiderman approach? Please don't, like, descend from my ceiling or something. I actually might pass out, and that's just a bit too medieval fairytale for a femme fatale like me."

"Stiles," he muttered.

"Yes, Derek?"

"Shut up," he said, and pulled her down by her neck to kiss her.

**Author's Note:**

> I think somehow AO3 killed my italics. I'll try to go back and fix that soon! ;o; Also would anyone be interested in more Derek/fem!Stiles drabbles? ouo
> 
> The title was inspired by Her Morning Elegance by Oren Lavie! While I've had this idea in mind for a while, that song prompted me to write it.


End file.
